Breeders

DOCTOR: 

Nardole, I want you to lead the evacuation. 

NARDOLE: 

What? No. 

DOCTOR: 

There's another solar farm on floor 502. 
There should be enough livestock in the cryogenic chamber 

NARDOLE: 

You need me with you. 

(The Doctor downloads everything on the laptop into his sonic screwdriver and shuts the lid.) 

DOCTOR: 

Thanks for all the software. I will take it from here. 

NARDOLE: 

Sir, with respect, I'm worried about your plan. 

DOCTOR: 

Plan? What plan? 

NARDOLE: 
I think as soon as this place is evacuated, you're going to blow the whole floor, killing as many Cybermen as you can. 

DOCTOR: 
No. No, course not. I won't do that until I've left. 

NARDOLE: 
Liar! It can't be done remotely. 

DOCTOR: 
You couldn't do it remotely. 

NARDOLE: 
Neither could you. 
And more to the point, you are not sending me up there to babysit a load of smelly humans. 

DOCTOR: 
Yeah? Well, I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm doing. 

NARDOLE: 
Huh? This is me we're talking about. 
Me. You know what I was like. 
If there's more than three people in a room, I start a black market. 

Send me with them, I'll be selling their own spaceship back to them once a week. 

Please, I would rather stay down here and explode. 

You go and farm the humans. 

DOCTOR: 

Listen. One of us has to stay down here and blow up a lot of silly tin men, and one of has to go up there and look after a lot of very scared people, day after day, for the rest of their lives, and keep them safe. 

Now the question is this, Nardole. 

Which one of us is stronger? 

(Long pause.) 

NARDOLE: Damn. 

DOCTOR: My condolences. 

NARDOLE: 
I'm going to name a town after you. A really rubbish one. 

DOCTOR: 
Oh, I'm counting on it. 

NARDOLE: 

And probably a pig. 

Young lady, you're coming with me. No arguments. 

May I remind you I'm still empowered to kick your arse. 

BILL: 

You'd have to go back down there to that hospital and find it, then. 

NARDOLE: 

Look, Bill 

BILL: 

My arse got kicked a long time ago, and there's no going back. 

(she stands next to the Doctor) 

All I've got left is returning the favour. 

NARDOLE: 
Oh, great. So she's allowed to explode. 

DOCTOR: 
Are you sure? 

BILL: 
You know I am. 

NARDOLE: 
I don't know what to say. 

BILL: 
You'll think of the right words later. 

NARDOLE: 
Doctor. Bill. 
(starts to leave) 
You're wrong, you know. Quite wrong. I never will be able to find the words.